


Transportation

by kailthia



Series: Awkward Augmentation [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Angst and Humor, Family Feels, M/M, Nori + parenting, Nori goes off on adventures, Nori is a Little Shit, OC death, Past Child Abuse, Sibling Bonding, characters recovering from trauma, debt slavery, female characters pretending to be male b/c of cultural and safety reasons, hair issues, mentions of child abuse, mentions of rape (didn't actually occur), ptsd characters, sibling/family dynamics, sneaky business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:45:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1490470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kailthia/pseuds/kailthia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Quest, Nori gets itchy feet and joins a group of fellow questionables en route to Harad. He acquires a child. There is drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mostly Honest

            Nori was now … mostly honest. Officially speaking, that is. When he wasn’t helping Dori set up his tea shop or with Ori cleaning out the library, he was working with Dwalin and Balin to help revamp Erebor’s justice system (since who knew the dark underbelly of the city better than him). Unofficially, he was spymaster for King Dáin, and he was being run off of his feet. It had been almost three years since the great battle and there had already been several assassination attempts. And trying to guide the city’s thieves into _not_ turning the underground into an ungodly mess was a life’s work in itself. It was _glorious_ , and Nori wouldn’t give it up for the world, even if Dwalin was going to throw a fit from hardly ever seeing him outside of ‘work’ and sleep, which Nori somehow usually ended up taking at odd hours anyway.

And if he had a few less-than-honest things going on at any given moment, it was quietly ignored by with the understanding that Nori’s apparent indiscretions usually paid off in terms of information valuable to his friends or to the crown. Even Dori had had to shut up about Nori’s disreputability after Nori’s involvement in that counterfeiting ring last year had meant that the actual ringleaders were brought to justice – all before Dwalin’s guards even knew there were any counterfeiters within a hundred leagues of the city. And Lady Dís had a soft spot for him ever since the encounter with the kidnapper and her younger son a few decades ago, so she was quite willing to fight for him with the nobility when they made unhappy noises about him being a jumped-up thief from a bastard’s line.

            Nori was even now contemplating going off on another job. Life in the Mountain was getting a little too stifling for his tastes. Well, to be more honest, Dori was getting a little too stifling for his tastes, mothering him like he wasn’t old enough to manage anything. But the main reason was that Rikka – one of his regulars in the criminal world – had contacted him for a special job, and it sounded … intriguing. Apparently, she was involved with a group ferrying trade goods from Gondor to the Haradric tribes of the southern deserts, and she had sent out messages asking if he wished to accompany her and her companions. It was tempting – he hadn’t been to the Orocarni Mountains in many years, and he could pick up some good gifts for his family while he was there. Knowing Rikka, the goods were almost certainly illegal, stolen, or otherwise not entirely on the “right side,” but Rikka wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t attach herself to any project that she didn’t think was worthwhile.

He would mention it to Dwalin over supper.

* * *

 

“You want to go where?” A chunk of turnip had fallen off of Dwalin’s fork as it hung from his fingers, halfway between his plate and his mouth.

Nori sighed. Dwalin could be so dense sometimes. “To Harad.”

“But why? Things are just starting to get settled properly here. There’s still more than enough work to do, and we just had that nice new bed installed.” Dwalin was justifiably confused; Nori knew that in his mind, things were just starting to get good again, so why leave?

Things getting good made Nori worried. Things getting good meant that things were about to fall apart, in his experience. Still; best not to let Dwalin know that. He’d worry.

He gave a casual shrug as he took a bit of his own dinner. “I want a change of scene.” Seeing Dwalin’s stricken look, he hurried to add, “Not about us, silly. Now that I’ve actually gone and married you, d’you think I’d let that go?” He absently tugged on one of Dwalin’s earrings and was grateful when he saw Dwalin relax.

“It seems … at though I’ve been traveling so long that it will never entirely leave me.” He grabbed Dwalin’s hands reassuringly. “I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you safe, _ghivasha_.” Nori, never one for pet names, only used them when he was being particularly serious. He had to convince Dwalin that he would try his hardest to come back. He would not promise to come back, the world was dangerous, especially for thieves, and Dwalin has lost too many loved ones to be grateful for the lie. The truth was better. And Nori’s best attempts to come home were very good.   

Dwalin looked up at him, a pained expression on his face. “I know you’ll be careful.” He stood, grabbing Nori in a tight hug. “Just don’t go without saying goodbye, alright?”

“Alright.” It was really the least he could do. Nori turned his face upwards to meet Dwalin’s insistent kisses, and felt a moment’s regret about the remains of dinner. Ah, well, that bed wasn’t going to enjoy itself. Nori felt that he had to take advantage of a real bed (the mattress stuffed with the best wool and feathers) and a willing husband while the opportunity presented itself.

He’d heard that the dwarves of the Orocarni practiced different methods of tattooing and piercing than here in the north; perhaps he’d get something to surprise Dwalin with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghivasha – treasure


	2. Intended Destinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori sets off.

“Svín!” Rikka bounded towards him, black curls flying. She stopped just short of him, clapping him on the back. “You made it! Cutting it as close as ever, aren’t you? We thought you mightn’t come!”

Nori smiled, hoping that no one else in the party knew him by a different name – he was fairly sure, given the background checks he had done before arriving, but he wasn’t completely certain, which worried him. “It’s nice to see you too, Rikka.”

Nori and Rikka walked through the camp, catching up on mutual acquaintances until they reached what passed for the camp’s office, a modestly sized tent in the middle of the circle of wagons and carts.

Nori turned to Rikka. “You’re almost ready to go?”

Rikka nodded. “We’re waiting for a few more people to make it in, and we’re expecting a few more deliveries of product while we’re in the area, but yes.”

“Why are we meeting here?” Nori asked curiously. “Rohan is well enough, but this marsh is a nasty piece of work.”

Rikka shrugged. “I have a contract for ponies, among other things. And if you want good horseflesh …”

“Go to Rohan.” That explained the unusually large amount of ponies around the camp. Rikka had mentioned that the group was going to be small – it was mixed, mostly men and a few dwarves – which meant that the majority of riding and draft animals would be horses until they got to the deep desert, at which point they would switch to camels.

“Why do your Haradrim contacts want northern ponies?” Nori asked. “You’d think they’d prefer horses or camels.”

Rikka shrugged. “Apparently some of the tribesmen of Khand prefer sturdy ponies over traditional warhorses. So we bought some of the larger Rohírric ponies and smaller horses to sell. My contacts mentioned good rates, and we can go onward to the Orocarni after we sell our living cargo in Khand.”

“Of course.” Nori had heard that Khandians, who were mostly organized into nomadic tribes, fought in a more cut-and-run style, which would benefit from the sturdy endurance and bursts of speed of the Rohírric horses, especially if they could be crossbred with the native breeds, which dealt well with the arid semi-deserts of the lands close to Mordor. And while it would seem unnatural to most dwarves – who preferred a more solid, straightforward approach to both travel and battle – Nori could appreciate the benefits of speed and flexibility.

Rikka looked him over, noticing the small bead-finished braid tucked into a corner of his hair. “Married, eh? Who managed to pin you down? Someone in our line of work, or out of it?”

Nori smiled, and began telling the story he had prepared about his ‘spouse,’ a sharp-tongued tinker who had part of the same working range. They had met in a town of men, seeing how many they could take advantage of during a winter fair … 

oOoOoOoOo

It had been odd, going off this time. He had always had a home to come back to; while Dori had always disapproved of his career choices, he loved him more, and Ori had always looked up to him. But it was odd having a big family waiting – not just his brothers, but Dwalin and the home they were making, and the rest of the surviving Company members, and the friends he was making. Well, ‘friends’ was perhaps a bit of a loose term, most of them were acquaintances and business associates, but still. He had more of a sense of place under the mountain than he had had since his mother had died in Ered Luin. But what was perhaps most disconcerting was leaving with people knowing (to a degree) where he was going and what he was doing. Nori had spent so long keeping his own counsel that having anyone with a key to his activities meant that he was on his toes. He knew that the information he had provided was vague, and that he could trust his family – that of blood and that of choice – but it still made him uneasy.   

His preparations for departure had been fairly standard – he had dyed his hair and changed the style, becoming a brunet with a simple braided chignon that could be easily maintained while keeping the hair out of his face and hiding a few useful items. His beard was put into a style not unlike its usual incarnation, except that the two side-braids had been swept back into the main mass of his hair. He had taken out his usual marriage braid and bead (the latter one that had been in Dwalin’s family longer than Nori’s line had existed, which disturbed him), and put in a less conspicuous version with a cheap-but-not-too-cheap bead that almost matched his hair color. It would help avoid … inconveniences, and it would ease Dwalin’s mind. He probably wouldn’t keep the thing on for the entirety of the trip, but he would when he could.

Nori had checked his gear carefully, ensuring that everything he needed was accounted for and in good condition. Not too good a condition, because he was to look like any other caravan guard or guide of moderate means, but not too bad of shape, either – that invited other possibilities. Nori sewed emergency gold into his clothes and made sure that the hidden weapons in his clothing and gear were, in fact, hidden to the unobservant (and the more observant). He had picked out a good pony and talked to Gloín about taking a withdrawal from the small but not insignificant portion of treasury given over to the Company for the road. Money was always useful, and some of the jewelry in the hoard would be easy to sell, trade, or fence in a pinch. It was always good to be prepared. 

Dori and Ori had been resigned as usual to his departure, knowing that he would (probably) be back, with new stories and new scars. He promised Ori that he would bring him back sweets and Dori that he would try not to get killed disreputably; they had both harrumphed and hugged him, reminding him to be careful. Dwalin had hugged him far too tightly, kissing him in a way that was most improper given the circumstances – outside the front gate, with their family and friends looking on, dusk though it was. He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t needed to speak, trying to hide the heartbroken look in his eyes because he knew Nori needed to wander like he needed to breathe. Nori had caught him as he turned away, cupping a hand to Dwalin’s cheek and holding eye contact for a moment, giving all the measurement he could. Because people were watching, he then proceeded to smack Dwalin’s ass, quietly murmur a list of things that Dwalin should have prepared for his return, and jump on his pony, spurring it to a quick trot as Dwalin sputtered, Ori turning crimson as he was apparently close enough to hear part of Nori’s list. Oops. He would have to apologize to Dori when he got home.   

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oOoOoOoOoO

            Minas Tirith wasn’t a bad city for a city of Men. It seemed like half the city had turned out to gape at their caravan as they set up to do business – including the Steward, Turgon, and his son Ecthelion, though they had been comparatively polite.

But Mahal below, it was getting warm.

Nori didn’t like warm. It wasn’t the focused heat of the forges, which he would put up with when required; for the heat of the forges was viscerally reassuring for dwarves, a reminder of their origins. But the heat in Gondor was a stifling blanket that clung to the skin and wouldn’t dissipate no matter what. Nori didn’t like how it slowed his reactions and made him tired. The only consolation was that it made many others do the same, making for interesting opportunities for someone with Nori’s skillset.

The fact that the heat was bound to get worse as they went south was not reassuring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people of Khand are supposed to be similar to the Mongols, who favored smaller horses.  
> Steward Turgon ruled Minas Tirith from TA 2914 to 2953, and his son Ecthelion II ruled from TA 2953 to 2984. Ecthelion was the father of Denethor II.


	3. No Matter What

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last group joins Nori's caravan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note changes in ratings/tags! This story starts being a bit darker here and I don't want to just toss that on you. So: NEW TRIGGER WARNINGS: slavery, past child abuse. If there are any tags you want me to add, /tell me/ and I'll do it.

            Nori was regretting the desk work that had so often kept in him in the Mountain over the past three years. His arse, lower back, and thighs were one massive ache. He didn’t like it. He promised himself that when he got back to Erebor he would kick up his self-imposed training a notch or five; he did _not_ want to be caught short like this again. And to top it off, the scenery was getting boring – it seemed that everything along the road from Emyn Arnen to the Crossings of Poros would be a repetition of the last, with only gradual changes in scenery to differentiate them. Nori found this simultaneously very pleasing and rather dull; pleasing because boring meant safe, and dull because a little excitement now and then livened up the joint.

            It was fun, traveling, though Nori had to admit that his first big trip since the Quest was off to a slow start, excepting that short stop in Minas Tirith. There had been no fights, and the members of the caravan had quickly settled into a state that, if not the steady camaraderie that he had enjoyed on the Quest, than a fairly good working relationship. Everyone knew what they should be doing and where they ought to be at any given moment – Nori himself was a scout, and helped with the ponies when he was in camp. The camp cooks were talented, which helped a great deal. Though they weren’t as good as Bombur, for all he was an architect. Let alone Bilbo. To be truthful, Nori kind of liked to be traveling again. He was seeing new things, and Dori and his nagging were nowhere in sight (or hearing).

            The only pebble in Nori’s boot was Dwalin. This was the first time that Nori had been away from him for longer than a month since they’d married and Nori missed Dwalin more than he’d care to admit. He’d always missed his bothers dreadfully when he was traveling, especially Ori, who seemed to save most of his milestone moments for when Nori was gone, the little bugger, but this was … different somehow. It was decidedly unnerving; Nori would think of Dwalin at the oddest moments, and would have to shove down his desire to go home and snuggle into Dwalin’s chest for the next decade or three. He missed Dwalin’s rough humor, the way he clung to Nori like a child with a stuffed toy when they shared a bed, how Dwalin could anticipate his bad days and have a hot drink and a sympathetic ear waiting for him. He especially missed the sex; self-fulfillment was well enough, but there was nothing quite like having his husband’s hands on his body, his teasing mouth, and his heavier body weighing down on Nori’s own until he reached oblivion.  

oOoOoOoOo

            They had detoured off the Great Hard Road, moving towards Pelargir, when the last members of their caravan joined them. On first glance, they seemed close enough to the rest of the group, bringing with them northern dyes and more animals to trade. Apparently there was a large market in the South for northern animals, for the rich and powerful in Harad would display their affluence through the purchase and display of rare things, including menageries of rare and exotic animals. It was only when Nori heard voices coming from one of the carts that he became worried.

He had gone to Rikka, who had been arguing with the Man in charge of the newcomers about fodder and cartage, and had waited until her business was done before pulling her aside, carefully concealing his distress from voice and face.

“These Men are slavers, aren’t they?”

Rikka nodded. “Is that a problem?” She sounded almost regretful, as if wondering if this would mean his departure. Nori could go, he had only promised to stay as long as wished without leaving the group in a bind, and they could do without him now, though his expertise would be missed. Rikka knew something of his history, and remembered how he got a particular set of scars on his wrists, ones that most people fortunately attributed to many arrests and sojourns in jails, those of dwarves and otherwise, as well as the tattoo of a crow on his neck covering another mark given at the same time as the wrist scars.

“It … could be.” Nori cocked his head at Rikka inquiringly, carefully avoiding looking at the slave carts. “What sort of cargo do they carry?”

“Debt slaves from Gondor, most of ’em. A few captured in raids from Dunland.”

“Ah.” Debt slavery wasn’t uncommon in the realms of Men, a family giving one (or more) of its members to avoid financial ruin, or an individual paying for their debt with their freedom. And battle captives, well, they weren’t uncommon among men.

As long as Nori was smart about it, he’d be fine. He told Rikka so. “Rikka, just … I won’t have any dealings with the slavers’ work directly. I’ll still scout, still fight, still do my share of the work around the camp, but I won’t work with them actively.”

She nodded, and Nori made his way over to the ponies, burying his face in his pony’s mane, breathing in the clean scent of horseflesh and sweat as he tried to forget.

oOoOoOoOo

            They were almost to Near Harad when he saw it. The slavers had forced all of their cargo out of the wagons for a bath in a small stream near their campsite (or so Nori had thought). But when he meandered past the empty wagons on his way back to the sleeping area after a visit to the privies, he saw a small figure in the back of one of the wagons. A small human child, on first glance – but no, the proportions were wrong, too sturdy. The child flinched when it saw Nori watching it, eyes containing a maturity beyond the years of a human child of that size, however malnourished, fed on hopelessness and despair. Nori’s stomach tightened as he forced himself to continue on towards his bed. He sat down on his bedroll, mind whirring.

            This was not good at all. If his dwarven companions knew about this, then they were less dependable than he had thought (for, as he had tried and failed to explain to Dwalin many times, just because people in his line of work were dishonest didn’t mean that they weren’t _predictably_ dishonest). If they didn’t know, convincing them could be troublesome. Rubbing his wrists absently, Nori began to plan. No matter what, he was going to get that child out of there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of slavery matches slavery practices in the early middle ages in Europe, where the children of slave mothers, some criminals, war captives, and people with overwhelming debt were enslaved. This practice died out in much of Europe with the onset of Christianity, but remained much more common in Islamic countries, Asia, and Africa. So in this fic I have slavery being uncommon but quietly practiced in Gondor, used mostly for war captives/wergild in Rohan (based on the Scandinavian tradition), and commonly practiced in Harad.   
> According to Stephen Hunter (Bombur’s actor), Bombur is, in fact, an architect. Though the fanon theory of him being a cook usually holds more water.   
> And yes, at the end Nori is channeling Captain Jack Sparrow’s line where you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the honest ones you have to watch out for – they’re unpredictable.


	4. Yngva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the increased ratings for violence, character death, some gender issues.

The inevitable attack had come later than Nori had expected. Logically, the caravan presented a juicy target to the Haradrim tribes, many of which played on the edge of survival on a regular basis. This made any caravan a potential target, and theirs had recently lost a few of their human guards. Nori was frankly glad that any member of their group that didn’t bother listening to the instructions on how to avoid heatstroke was no longer with them. Anyone who was that stupid was someone you didn’t want on your side during a fight.

            The raiders had come in the quiet before false dawn, before the cooks had woken to start the first meal of the day and when the watchers placed strategically around the camp were most tired. Nori – always a light sleeper – had woken to the gurgle of the dying (people only, animals were too valuable to kill out of hand) and the harsh grate of the Haradric tongue. It was a dialect slightly different from that that Nori knew, but he could understand it well enough.

            They had been quiet, taking out most of the guards before Nori was awake. As he scuttled under a wagon to see the lay of the land, he saw Rikka on the ground, a Haradric knife through her eye. He firmly squashed his guilt, promising himself that he would bury her in rock if he could. In the dark, no one noticed him under the wagon. He took care to avoid the spears thrust under the wagon bed to flush out anyone who was hiding, and hid the glow of his eyes from any whose gaze passed by his hiding spot. The tribesmen were driving the ponies and the slaves east and north when Nori saw the child.    

He knew what he had to do. He had seized up the situation, considering chances, possibilities, alternatives. Then he moved.

He ran to the horse strings, cutting loose two of the ponies that he knew were fast and could endure long travel – one of the things he had made sure to watch out for – mounting one, tying the other’s lead reins to the saddle with enough slack to make movement easy. Galloped over to the slave lines, thanking the Maker for the horse tricks he had picked up in Rohan over the years as he grabbed the child, female now that he saw the cut of her tunic and trousers, by the collar and swung her up before him on the pony. He kneed the pony and huddled as close to the pony’s neck as he could.

They were pursued, obviously, two outriders following Nori, almost flanking them before a shout from behind caused them to turn back, but not before one of them grazed Nori’s side with an arrow. It seemed that Nori and the child were considered small potatoes compared to the rich pickings in the camp proper. Or they were waiting to go after them later, assuming Nori, still mostly dressed in Northern-style clothes, would err, tire himself and the horses out, get befuddled by the Southern clime. Nori snorted. As if. He had a child to take care of.

oOoOoOoOo

Nori was worried about the child. She wasn’t talking beyond the absolute bare minimum, giving out monosyllabic answers when she could and not offering any information about herself. And she was drawn in on herself to a degree that was frightening; Ori had been an introverted child, so he was used to dealing with a little one that wasn’t much for touch, but this was different. She shied away from even the most accidental or roundabout contact. It was frankly disturbing. The child hadn’t even given him a use-name, which bothered Nori – for dwarves, your name, even your use-name, was part of your identity – it marked your family, your place, your trade. Even those like Nori, who often went under an assumed name, would choose one that had some meaning. For the child to be so disassociated was a bad sign.

They had ridden for _days_ , managing to survive off of the emergency rations kept on each mount and what Nori could scrounge from the environment. Fortunately, they were in a semi-desert area, so there were a fair amount of animals and plants. Nori thanked the Maker for every water-bearing plant that he found, each one another step between the child and dehydration.

He regretted not being able to go back to bury Rikka – not being buried under stone was a great insult to any dwarf, and Rikka deserved better than that. But going back would in all likelihood mean capture, and that wasn’t an option. So Nori said a prayer for the dead and hoped that Rikka wouldn’t take her anger too much out of his hide when he eventually made it to the Halls of Mahal.

They had avoided capture through the use of Nori’s wiles, and had soon reached a town of men. Nori had dipped into his emergency gold, finding a tavern that showed the thief’s sign and arranging for a place to stay for himself and his “son” – Men were always wary of an adult traveling alone with a child, and couldn’t easily tell the difference between the dwarven genders anyway, so it would smooth corners to publicly call her male. Kid even looked kind of like Nori, enough to make it work, with her dark brown hair a mess, and big hazel eyes begging for a good bed. And the child managed to play along well enough, dragging herself out of her stupor to kind of curl against Nori like it was the most natural thing in the world to claim her. He had gotten them to the room, had carefully stuffed himself and the child full of food – not too much to start, all of it things that would help them gain strength while being easy to digest. Afterwards, he had sat the kid down on one of the beds, sitting opposite her on the other.

“So kid, still don’t have a name to give me?”

The girl shook her head. Nori sighed.  

“How does Yngva sound for starters? We’d have to switch it to Yngvi when we’re out among Men so they’d keep thinking you’re a boy.”

The child considered the idea, then, after a long pause, nodded.

“And you’re alright with pretending to be my child?” Another nod.

“Don’t forget, or else they’ll try to take you away from me, alright?” A sharper nod this time. Nori approved; the kid was sharp, she’d remember.

“You don’t have to worry about me trying to take advantage of you, ok? I’ll take care of you until we can get you a family.” Yngva’s eyes widened, and she seemed slightly overwhelmed, but she nodded again. The Maker knew how long it had been since she’d had family, but Nori knew his duty. Children were a gift from the Maker, especially girl-children, and needed looking after. He knew that Yngva wouldn’t believe him about not hurting her or taking advantage – words were just words, after all – but hopefully she would relax a bit around him after he had proven that he wasn’t going to harm her. He smiled at her, carefully keeping his expression from crossing over into the predatory look he uses for work.

“If you want a bath, I’ll have some water sent up.” After a faint ‘yes,’ Nori stood. He would have patted Yngva’s hands, kept so politely on her lap, but he knew that it wouldn’t help her be more relaxed around him.

“Good. I’m going to have a pint or two downstairs. I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up, alright? I can bathe tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcannon that Dwarven eyes glow faintly in the dark like many nocturnal and dark-dwelling animals. It’s one of their adaptations for living underground.  
> And hey, kid, finally has a gender and a name! And Yngva/Yngvi are the legitimate female/male versions of the same name (it’s the name of a god). I’d think that some people might know the difference between a male/female-specific outer name (since they’re based on Mannish names from the north), so females might well switch/alter their names to a male-type name when posing as male. A modern comparison might be Charlotte-Charles, Tammy-Tommy, Stephanie-Stephan/Steven.   
> Nori’s kid-wrangling style is based on the fact that most of the kids he knows had to grow up fast – like the kid in this fic, or like Ori. So he treats children as small adults. Fíli, Kíli and Bilbo are more ‘childlike’ to him (naïve, sometimes irresponsible, etc.) than many actual children.


	5. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Yngva acquire gear and work their way towards the Orocarni.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note continued trigger warning for past child abuse.

They spent a little over a week in the town of men – he couldn’t pronounce the name, but he eventually found out that it had something to do with the springs that formed the backbone of the town, indeed of all habitable places in the desert. Nori carefully started feeding Yngva up, and once she realized he probably wasn’t going to drug her into subservience, she ate well. It was too soon for her to start filling out properly, but she was beginning to look less haggard. Though being able to sleep easily, have a bit of peace of mind, and a general lack of _grime_ had certainly contributed to her improved state. Nori tried to push down the Dori-like impulses to smother the girl and resolved to apologize for the times his brother had fussed over him for coming home looking like death warmed over.

            He had taken Yngva to a tailor for new clothes, as her current outfit was in no condition to be worn and a slave’s marker besides. He had gotten the shackles off her the first night, so that wasn’t a problem – the shackles had been pick-resistant, yes, but not pick- _proof_ , not for Nori. Thankfully, the tailor hadn’t asked too many questions, especially as Nori had made sure to mutter about ‘silly children playing in the mud, ruining their clothes,’ and ‘no-good pack animals going and dying on us, making us lose time and product.’ Not a full story, but enough to make the woman believe that they were legitimate. Yngva had played the penitent child to perfection, mumbling apologies and squirming when the tailor wanted to take off her bottom layer of clothing until Nori could insist that it stayed on. Let her chalk it up to the strangeness of Dwarves.

Nori had adjusted the clothing for hidden pockets and other surprises when they got back to their room at the inn, and made Yngva take a spot bath before changing into the first of the news sets of clothes before doing the same for his own new clothes. Then comes the real preparation.

Nori scouts the market stalls, finding out who has the best travel food, camping gear, horse fodder, everything else they would need for the weeks it would take to get under proper stone again, a feeling that Nori has only recently figured out he likes. He buys carefully to avoid suspicion, choosing items that will last long and wear well. Nori knows that stinting on quality can and does cost lives. Ever pragmatic, Nori lets the shopkeepers coo and sigh over Yngva to distract from his sharp haggling, occasionally flashing a knife in warning at one that thinks to get too close. They understand the warning, and keep a careful distance from Yngva afterwards.

On their last night in the city, Nori and Yngva eat well – but not too well, no need to attract attention – bathe (and isn’t Nori glad to be clean, city living is making him soft, he thinks), and go to bed early. Nori has told Yngva that he has to go out, so she is surprised when he sleeps, but says nothing. When he goes out the window in the wee hours, she is surprised, but again says nothing. When, hours later, he wakes her in the predawn dark and tells her to dress, she does so without question; Nori’s ideas seem strange, but they’ve worked out so far. They pack quietly, and go downstairs, Nori leaving some coins in the till. The horses have too many bags, and Yngva now knows for certain … Nori is a thief. She had guessed before, from the way Nori moved (painfully silently), from the ways his clothing occasionally moved around hidden objects (usually but not always knives), the way he is hyperaware of his surroundings (like, but yet unlike a warriors’ sense of space). She mounts the spare riding horse silently, allowing Nori to place the bags in such a way as to support her easily, watching her surroundings interestedly. Nori has given her no reason not to trust him … yet. The world is harsh, and there are worse things in the world than thievery. She will let it pass – for now.

oOoOoOoOo

            They travelled towards the Orocarni Mountains – Nori had visited the region before, so he knew the route. They went village to village, changing names and faces, Nori teaching Yngva how to subtly change the way she moved and spoke and dressed in order to present herself differently. It was slow going, since no travel could be done in the heat of the day and Nori was not confident enough in his desert skills to do much traveling at night.

As they travelled east and a little north towards the Orocarni, Nori and Yngva began to look more and more out of place. There were increasing numbers of dwarves in and around the towns of Men they passed through – frankly, more than would be in Mannish settlements back home – but they were darker-skinned and –haired, though occasionally there were some with lighter eyes – apparently the descendants of long-ago refugees of long-lost Belegost and Nogrod. Nori exchanged pleasantries and small trade goods with them, and moved on.     

            Nori had been surprised when he had discovered that Yngva was thirty-five; she seemed smaller and was slow to hit the major milestones. From what he could gather, she had been separated from her family for a long time, stuck among humans who treated her as they would a particularly intelligent animal. Nori thrust down his rage and began teaching the lass the traditional songs of the dwarves and helped her with her Khuzdûl when they were between towns.

He thought that Dwalin would be amused by his attempts at childcare.

The first big panic attack comes soon afterwards, two days past the topmost edge of the Ephel Dúath, but still nowhere near the Ered Lithui. Nori had, in all honesty, been expecting it sooner. Yngva had been showing many of the other signs of a victim of persistent abuse since he had rescued her – the anxiety, the dislike of physical contact, her persistent silence, so unusual in a youngling – and it was really only a matter of time before the night terrors started in earnest. 

Nori manages to wake Yngva up by throwing a rock near her head, knowing that shaking her awake or otherwise touching her wouldn’t help, and knowing that she might well strike out in her sleep besides. Having someone looming over her to wake her would do her no favors, and he didn’t want a broken nose or tooth.

Yngva started as the rock landed near her head, then focused the only moving object in her immediate area – Nori.

“You ok, Yngva?”

She shook her head through her tears, silent sobs racking her small body.   

Nori sighed. “Want to sleep next to me for the rest of the night?” He would have offered to share his bedroll with her so she could have the comfort of physical contact, but in her state, physical contact wouldn’t be a comfort, and she might take it as him trying to do … other things.

As Yngva scoots her bedroll next to his, Nori wonders who is more surprised that she trusts him even this much – Yngva or Nori himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 35 is ≈ 10. I’m using the divide by 4 rule. And because Yngva has been abused for so long, she’s an underdeveloped 10, both physically and mentally.  
> Belegost and Nogrod were two Dwarvish cities in the Ered Luin in the First Age, destroyed as part of all the shit that went down with the Silmarils. Many of its refugees (the Broadbeams and the Firebeards) went to Moria, but a few went elsewhere. And after so long, only a small part of their physical characteristics would have survived due to intermarriage with locals. I imagine their descendants would look like many of the mixed-raced inhabitants of Central America and the close islands, with blue/green/grey eyes and dark skin.


	6. Knotwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori and Yngva arrive in the Orocarni and prepare to set up shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for past childhood abuse, past offscreen violence, mentions of past rape-type situations

**:**

They stop in the Human city paired to the main Blacklock settlement in the Orocarni to prepare, though it is only midmorning. They rent a room at an inn, nap, wash in a cursory fashion, change clothes, and go out into the city. Nori wants to be properly prepared for their entrance to the Mountain tomorrow, and Yngva now trusts him enough to go into the crowds with him, leaving most of their gear behind. Nori wants to put the finishing touches on the disguise they would use to gain entrance to the dwarven city, and for that, they need a few things that weren’t in the gear they had accumulated in their weeks of travel together.

            Yngva had gradually become accustomed to Nori, opening up to him as the weeks went by. He had found out what had happened to her family only recently, an expression of trust which he took very seriously. Her family group had been stonecarvers, returning to their settlement in the White Mountains after doing some repair work in the walled port city of Dol Amroth, when their party had been attacked by raiders. Any who had resisted had been killed, the rest enslaved. The Princes of Dol Amroth, generally known for their fair dealings and sense of justice, had apparently been unaware of the slavers lurking on the edge of their territories. Yngva had been comparatively fortunate – as a child, she had been considered valuable, and she had been able to hide her gender, still being too young for the growing breasts and widened hips of adulthood. Thankfully, no one among her captors had had a taste for young children, a fact for which Nori thanked the Maker.

            The night terrors were gradually becoming less frequent, though they were by no means gone. Yngva would crawl into Nori’s bed when they got particularly bad. Nori was glad to offer what comfort he could, and always left a few extra blankets lying around near his bed, though he didn’t sleep with them until Yngva brought them with her because of the heat. 

Nori was currently trying to get Yngva used to the idea of interacting with others on a more equal footing; while the girl would never be extroverted, she could not avoid social situations forever. She had to break years’ worth of training to be absolutely obedient, subservient, and not in control of herself. This could, at best, get her completely walked over for the rest of her life, and at worst would get her killed, beaten, or raped in short order. After much effort, Yngva could now perform basic interactions by herself – order a meal while exchanging the necessary pleasantries, buy an item which did not require a stranger touching her, and so on. Teaching her to haggle successfully was an ongoing challenge, without much success so far, as Yngva did not like to argue or directly contradict anyone. Nori was cautiously hopeful; Yngva’s boundaries were stretching, and he could not expect her to overcome years of ill-treatment to evaporate overnight. Hence, part of the reason for today’s outing.

When Yngva asked why they were going out to buy more thread – surely they had enough of it in their rooms, he gave a rueful laugh and shrugged, realizing that he had not explained _why_ he had been buying up thread, needles, and wooden frames of varying sizes as they journeyed to the Orocarni.

“My mother was a seamstress, did you know? All of her children inherited some part of her skills with cloth. Dori tailored for years until he could save up enough to open his own tea shop, Ori knits, and I … I learned knots and thread.” He had told Yngva something of his siblings – trading truth for truth, repaying trust with trust, so the girl nodded her understanding when he spoke of his fussy elder brother and his shy younger sibling. She cocked her head up at him, knowing that there was more to the story.

“We, kid, are buying materials so that I can set up a knotmaker’s stall in the mountain’s main market. You remember what I said about first impressions?”

“Yes, Nori,” came the reply, a serious glint in Yngva’s eye. He had been training her in the skills that would keep the breath in one’s body among his sort of people – the criminals, the drifters, the travelers, those who lived and breathed in the grey areas that were, whatever Dwalin might say, far too common in the real world. The first impressions rule went thus – give off a first whiff of legality wherever possible. It was far easier to go from legality to illegality than vice versa. So they would play knotmaker and new knotmaker’s apprentice newly-come to the Orocarni until they had found their feet. Maybe stay a few months – Nori still didn’t have any sets plans, and he could teach Yngva something about knots and cloth, see if she’d like to take it up as a trade.

“We’ll talk details when we get home, eh? That silk merchant next to the fountain with the axes has some very nice vermilions ….”

He added a warning about a pickpocket casually walking towards them in Iglishmek – easy targets they might look, foreigners as they were, but very few people successfully snuck up on Nori. The only response he got was Yngva’s casually turning in such a way as to minimize the chances of her coinpurse being taken or emptied by the thief as she inspected the contents of a fruitseller’s stall. Nori smiled slightly; the girl was learning well.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Nori sweet-talks their way into the Orocarni marketplace easily and with a cut-rate rental price – charming the dam who was in charge of stall rentals with honeyed words and discreetly flirtatious gestures. The dam does not wear any of the beads or braids of marriage or intent, and for the moment, neither does Nori. The dam, whose cheerful demeanor belied her sharp eye for business, simply laughed off Nori’s hinted-at offers and, tossing him the key for their stall.

            They set up quickly, and had a steady stream of curious customers visit them in their first day in the market. Nori had sensibly prepared a large supply of small, cheap knots to get people buying and talking – mostly charms for luck, prosperity, and protection, though a good number of love-knots passed over the counter. Yngva watched him work, helping where she could and beginning to learn how to people-wrangle. As they close down the shop at the end of the day, Nori smiles and gestures to Yngva. They grab their bags – no need to let product lie around, just waiting to be eaten – and head towards their rented apartment.

“So, kid, how do you feel about lamb kebabs? I saw a street vendor a few blocks over whose setup looked fairly clean.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m trying to portray Yngva as gradually improving. In this chapter, she’s much more comfortable around Nori because he’s demonstrated his trustworthiness, but she’s still very wary around strangers.  
> Iglishmek is the dwarven sign language used when silence is necessitated. It is understandably very popular among thieves.  
> I’m going by a middle-eastern/north African societal structure here for the humans, and kebabs are a traditional middle eastern food, and seem reasonable for street food.


	7. Six Months

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori gets a tattoo and has an emotional discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never said this was a happy story, did I?

They have spent six months in the Orocarni so far. Nori had made a good run of it with his knotmaking – it was a trade practiced differently here in the east, so his goods were seen as of unusual make, and so sold well. He has taken care to keep passing off Yngva as his apprentice, teaching her how to make some of the simpler knots, having her help around the shop, run errands, and the like. Yngva took to the trade like a duck to water. Nori, proud of her skill, began teaching her how to pick locks, use knives, and move quickly and silently in the evenings, among other skills. He stood firm in his desire to do right by her. Dori might despair of the skills he taught her, but Nori knew that everything she learned would help keep her alive. 

            Overall, Yngva has shown great improvement over their stay in the Orocarni to date. She was much more comfortable around strangers now, though she was still rather uncomfortable with casual physical contact, as well as disliked dealing with others for extended periods. Yngva had also started voicing her own opinions, knowing that Nori wouldn’t deride her, and would consider her views where they differed from his own. Best of all, she was beginning to honestly be happy again; the first time she had laughed in Nori’s presence, after her first time successfully flipping a pancake in the kitchen of their tiny apartment, he thought that he would cry for joy.    

Now, Nori had closed the shop down temporarily, bought several days’ worth of food supplies, and gotten the new tattoo he had promised himself when he had left Erebor. Due to the location of the tattoo, he would have to spend a day or two lying down, and then take it easy walking for a few more. All worth it for the eventual look on Dwalin’s face when he sees it, of course. Making Dwalin squirm was a spectator sport for Nori.

Yngva stays at home while he goes to the tattooists’ shop, matching colors for new pieces and minding a slow-cooking pot of soup on the hearth. Nori comes home, sore and satisfied and limping, collapsing into sleep in his room after waving to Yngva and taking the sleeping draught provided by the tattoo artist, which would allow him to avoid the initial ache of the tattoo while hopefully also keeping still him while asleep, not jarring the abused section of flesh. It was sufficiently awkwardly located – in the crease of his left thigh and stomach – that unnecessary motion was best avoided.

He woke at noon by the light to see Yngva poking him, a plate with a sandwich on it in her other hand. He blinked, getting the sleep out of his eyes, noticing the glass of what looked to be small beer on the floor near Yngva’s foot.

“I brought you lunch,” she said. “Feeling better?”

He nodded and took the sandwich, biting into it hungrily. He swallows and looks up at Yngva, thanking her around his mouthful of food.       

“You were talking in your sleep.”

Nori stills. He doesn’t usually sleeptalk – it must have been the meds running through his system.

“What was I talking about?” Better to know; hopefully it wasn’t something _too_ embarrassing.

Yngva’s brown eyes were dark. “Your husband. You miss him.”

_Oh._

“Is he why you want to fob me off on someone else when you get back to your Mountain?” Yngva asked dispassionately, the sheer detachment of the question stunning Nori.

He gaped for a moment before sitting up, gesturing for Yngva to come and sit with him. It was a measure of her trust in him that she came without hesitation, curling up into his side, looking up at him questioningly.

“Dwalin is part of it, pebble. I would keep you in a heartbeat if I had the only say, but I can’t just take you without talking to Dwalin beforehand – it’s not fair to him. I’m mostly sure he’ll say yes, but I didn’t want to lead you on if he said no.”

He held on to Yngva tightly, feeling her tense up at his explanation. He was shaking, and knew he had to get out the rest of the story before he could not.

“I was thinking … _if_ Dwalin says no – not that I think he would, but just in case – would you like to go live with my brothers? They’d take good care of you, and I’d come visit, and we could get you a good apprenticeship…”

And now the kid was crying, snuggling into him in a way that was really doing no favors for his injured upper thigh, but he figured that he had brought that on himself too, so he could manage. He held Yngva close and murmured soothing words until her tears slowed and she was half-asleep. Obviously this was something that had been bothering her for a while, to cause such a reaction … he had spoken of Dwalin before, but had never thought that Yngva would think that his husband was the reason that he hadn’t spoken of taking her in himself.

Well, Dwalin was, as he had said, part of the reason. He couldn’t just spring Yngva on Dwalin without getting his approval, without at least talking to him first. It wouldn’t be fair. As much as he would like to just adopt the girl and be done with it – he brushed a hand over her hair, noting that he’d have to redo her braids when she woke – he couldn’t. He had married into Dwalin’s family, so Dwalin – and Balin – would need input into any child he wished to adopt, setting aside any emotional considerations.  

If Dwalin said no to adopting Yngva – Nori prayed to the Maker that he wouldn’t – then he’d take Yngva to Dori. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come home with a child. Dori would take her.

Either way, he’d see to it that the child, the child of his heart, was taken care of.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon explanation time about Nori marrying into Dwalin’s family: Female dwarves marry into their husbands’ families, and so any children they have are mainly in his bloodline. Same-sex couples have a problem – they adopt kids, they don’t have them physically (mostly). So I’d think they would pick one person’s family as their primary. In Nori and Dwalin’s case, Nori’s bloodline is rather disreputable, so it made sense to defer to Dwalin’s higher status (he is, after all, a distant cousin to kings). And Balin, as head of their family, would likely have some input on adoptions.


	8. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori wants to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates!   
> So ... I know that it's coming up to Nwalin Week, but I (sadly) won't be able to do anything for it because ... I am graduating from uni this week and so am very busy. I hope to be able to put in another update or two of this as it is a Nwalin fic, but with all the grad activities and family stuff (a small flood of relatives are coming over at various points) I am swamped.

Nori heals, and he and Yngva reopen the shop. The gap in service had apparently done wonders for their reputation, and people flock to their store. Nori laughs at all the offers of companionship and gently turns them away, claiming he is too busy to think of making special friends with anyone. He began replacing Yngva’s clothes with their profits, as several months’ worth of good food are finally helping her fill out and grow. The shine is back in her eyes and her hair, and Nori can no longer count all the bones in her face.

            Nori began being quietly, deliberately affectionate towards Yngva. He felt she needed the reassurance, and found his opinion justified when she so obviously responded to his casually affectionate touches (in places that could only be construed as family-oriented), his regular asking of and giving weight to her opinions, and making the foods she preferred on a regular basis, among other things. She opens up to the attention slowly but surely, a flower slowly opening to the sun’s light. The nightmares are much less frequent now, though Yngva will still crawl into Nori’s bed for comfort a few times a month. Nori doesn’t bring it up, but is glad when Yngva is comfortable enough with him to gradually shed the many layers of blankets between them when they shared a bed until Nori would wake up to a small child curled in his arms with only their nightclothes separating them. Nori imagines that this might be part of what Dori is thinking about when he talks about _domestic bliss_. Family, and closeness, and love.

            As the seasons moved towards summer again in Erebor – winter here in the South, or what passed for it – Nori began to seriously consider going _home_. Dori and Ori would be worrying, and Dwalin …   Dwalin would be quietly pining (a look which he didn’t pull off well), but he _understood_. Nori had made sure of it before they had married; old habits die hard, and Nori’s wandering feet could never be completely cured. It would be nice to spend time with his family again … it would give Dori someone new to mother-hen, take some of the heat off Ori. And it would be good to spend time with Dwalin again. Though if all went well, there would be a need for some – circumspection – in regards to certain activities. Awkward interruptions were to be avoided.

            Nori signs up with a caravan going through the Iron Hills to Erebor – some official ambassadorial stuff, but mostly merchants seeking to take advantage of the recently reopened trade routes with Dale (and, coincidentally, with an Erebor literally piled with gold but still lacking in many necessities). There are most likely a few people of Nori’s ilk going disguised among the merchants to see what could be seen in and around the Kingdom under the Mountain Restored. Nori makes a mental note to see if he can figure out who they are before he and Yngva get back to the Mountain from the detour he is planning to one of his caches a few days out from Erebor.

Nori could have gone it alone with Yngva and the pack ponies, but why take chances when there were others going in the same direction? Safety for long journeys through mostly uninhabited areas lay in numbers. If the area through which they were traveling was peopled, then Nori would have travelled with just himself, Yngva, and a packpony or two, ditching or selling most of their unneeded gear before departure, Nori using his own skills, Yngva’s fledgling ones, and occasionally his money to acquire new supplies where necessary. The vast tracts of northern Rhûn, which were mostly uninhabited, did not appeal to Nori’s sense of safety.   

            The leg of the journey from the Orocarni to the Iron Hills is gloriously boring – there are only two incidents of bandits, and they have only three deaths. Nori is pleased. They spend two weeks in the Iron Hills, selling knots, resting, restocking their supplies, and doing what Balin would probably call research into the sociopolitical situation of the area. Dáin’s wife and his second son are currently in management in the Iron Hills, and Nori knew that the king would appreciate a first-hand opinion of the goings-on in the Iron Hills that did not need to be carefully worded in case of interception. It was unfortunate that Nori could not actually go and approach the Queen or the Prince (overtly or covertly) but neither of them had met him before and he didn’t want to blow his cover by introducing himself. The fuss wasn’t worth it, especially if they wanted to give him the Hero Treatment. Being one of the Fourteen has its downsides, though Nori had managed to avoid the worst of it by generally giving off the impression of a mostly-worthless nobody who had been dragged along because of family obligations, not some sort of vestigial sense of duty to throne and country. The family part was even true.

            The caravan continues on to Erebor, and the voyage continues to be quiet. A few days’ distance from the Mountain, Nori separates himself, Yngva, and their baggage out from the caravan, claiming that he was going to detour to visit one of his regular contacts in a village of men – and no, the whole caravan shouldn’t go, this was a social visit rather than commercial, the destination is too small for any decent sales. Better to head over to the Mountain – Nori assured the head caravaneer that he would catch them up quickly. 

            Before he left, Nori gave three of the merchants a knot, telling them that it was in a style that would mark them as friends of a local merchant in the taverns, getting them a few extra … perks. Nori felt that the leer he accompanied these gifts was convincing - it should be, from the general laughter when the gifts were presented. For most intents and purposes, these were luck knots, but which he had a few small alterations that he had worked out with Dwalin for the guardsmen to remember. Any guardsmen seeing these knots would quietly and without fuss report the owner and their location to Dwalin, at which point he or she would be taken in for questioning in a way that hopefully did not arouse suspicion. Nori was confident that the dwarrows that had received the knots were up to things that wouldn’t be in Erebor’s best interests.

As Nori kneed his pony onwards towards his hiding spot, he began to whistle. He was almost home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To explain why Nori joins a group going back to Erebor: It’s a long journey through a mostly-uninhabited area. He could manage fine if there were more people around. Though while Nori’s /best/ “habitat” is some sort of highly populated area, he’s no stranger to living rough. But when you get a large area without people except for the occasional town and many dangerous people, there is a high danger potential.   
> About Dáin’s family: son #2 is an OC. We know little about his descendants save that his son is named Thorin 3 ‘Stonehelm,’ and this Thorin inherits the kingship after Dáin dies like a bamf in the Battle of Dale at a ‘great age.’ I always wondered what happened to the Iron Hills after Dáin becomes King of Erebor, because it isn’t explained in the books – does it become a subsidiary state of Erebor? Does a regent take it? Does another of Dain’s children (if he has any) take it over? In this fic, I’m assuming the last, and son #2 will inherit the Iron Hills, and is currently co-regent with his mother as he’s too young to go it alone. Thorin 3 is about the age of Fíli and Kíli at their deaths at this point, and so #2 is younger and so not of age.


	9. Flowers and Starfishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori makes it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect infrequent updates for the next weekish - I'm graduating from university, and am superbusy and so on semi-hiatus. Also why I'm not doing Nwalin week (sad panda).

PS find me on tumblr [here](http://kailthia.tumblr.com/). 

When they were two days out of Erebor, Nori stopped at the entrance to one of his favorite caches and motioned for Yngva to follow him into the rock fault that led into a small cave. The stream at the back murmured quietly as Nori tied the horses close to its exit point back into the rock and placed their packs and gear went into one of the dryer corners. Nori then directed Yngva towards a pile of rocks that formed a basic table and chairs.

The time had come for Nori to have a rather awkward discussion with Yngva. He had always made it a policy to be scrupulously honest with her, except in one area. He had, out of caution, given her the use-name he had been using with the caravan going South instead of his own. It hadn’t registered as a problem, and now he had to fess up.  

After Yngva chose a spot, Nori sat himself down and took a deep breath, forcing himself to look Yngva in the eye as he spoke.

“I … haven’t been entirely honest with you. I mean, I have about most things, but I never corrected you when you picked up on the name I was using when I was with the caravan-”

Yngva smiled, shushing him as he tried to explain himself. “It’s alright. I knew you wanted to hide your proper outer name so that I couldn’t accidentally tell anyone. You were just being reasonable.”

Nori blinked. “You’re not angry at me?”

Yngva shrugged. “Why would I be? You were looking out for my best interests in the long term. If I’d I messed up by accident, we’d have been in trouble.”

Nori breathed out heavily. “I’m still sorry I didn’t tell you the truth from the beginning.”

Yngva came over to Nori’s “seat” and gave him a hug. “I’m not, but I am hungry. Is there any dinner?”

Nori chuckled. “There’s some beans and dried beef soup mix in the saddlebag with the blue half-moons. Dig it out?” As Yngva stood and went over to the pile of gear, Nori called out after her. “Bring out the brown one with the bears? I need to dye my hair back to something close to its original color.”

When Yngva saw his hair in its normal style and the closest incarnation of its natural color he could manage the next morning, she laughed so hard she spat out her mouthful of porridge.

“You look like a flower!”

Nori looked at her, aghast. “A … _flower_?” He’d heard starfish before, and had to agree that his hairstyle did sort of remind one of the little desiccated sea creatures that had turned up in some of the marketplaces he’d frequented. But a flower? That was new.

Yngva nodded vigorously. “A flower. Your hair and beard are the petals, and your face is where the pollen is.”

Nori continued eating his breakfast, shaking his head. _A flower._  He began carefully explaining how his hairstyle was carefully designed to keep people’s eyes and attention on his hair, and not his features or his hands, as well as including a few choice elements of family design. And how there was no intended connection between his chosen style and any sort of botanical or zoological imaginings.

oOoOoOoOoOo

            Once they made it to Dale, Nori stashed most of their gear in the section of warehouse he had rented soon after the recovery of the Mountain. It was useful to have various items stashed away from the Mountain. Never anything illegal, mind, or seriously unethical. It was just that Nori liked to be prepared, and it was nice to have a space ready if he needed to leave something (like now) or if he or a friend or coworker needed to get a more specialized item or tool when they were topside and didn’t want to have to go back to the Mountain. He’d even slept here a time or two … he was already paying rent, so why bother paying for a room at an inn? Nori eyed a bolt of Rohírric woolen cloth skeptically; it was mussed from his last visit here with Dwalin. He wouldn’t be buying from that merchant again – “itch-free,” his ass. He snorted.

And if the owner of the warehouse knew him under a different name than the one he used at home, who was to know?

They left the warehouse with what they could carry comfortably, leading the ponies. Nori was back to his normal clothes and hairstyle, though covered by a dustcloak. He wasn’t hiding – not out in the open as they were – but he was avoiding what obvious stares he could.

The ponies went to a stable, Nori haggling (as himself) with the owner to sell them to the house and have the credit placed against his account. The eventual agreement reached was mutually satisfactory; neither of them was entirely pleased, but they were both ready to let it go.

Now with only their packs, Nori led Yngva to one of his favourite taverns in the city. “You ready for lunch, girl? Personally, I am rather peckish.”

Yngva nodded. “Will there be fish? I like fish.”

Nori smiled as he opened the door for Yngva. “Aye, there’s fish. The _Laughing Juggler_ has a good line in fish of several sorts. I’d recommend the trout.” 

oOoOoOoOo

“Why have we snuck into the ruins of the old city, Nori?” asked Yngva curiously. It was a measure of her trust in him that she was just curious and not hesitant or doubtful at all; she knew he had a _reason_ for bringing to one of the parts of Dale not yet restored instead of through to the front gate of the dwarven city directly. She just didn’t know what is was. He was glad to explain now that they were out of the inhabited areas.

“There are several hidden tunnels from the Mountain to Dale,” he said, jumping down into what looked like the basement of a bakery. “They were used for messengers, emergency contacts, or various … other things. There’s one …” he heaved at an ivy-covered stone “block,” actually a thin cover cunningly carved, “right here.” He motioned for Yngva to climb down, which she did.

“So why isn’t this guarded? I mean, anyone could get into the mountain,” asked Yngva.

Nori smiled down at Yngva as he passed her a pair of torches and lit them. “Well, what would people say if a nice big pair of guardsfolk were outside this building day and night?”

Yngva thought about it for a moment as Nori replaced the tunnel opening securely and took a torch for himself. “That … there’s something worth guarding here?” she asked tentatively.

“Full points! By leaving this place alone, we’re reinforcing that there’s nothing here worth looking at. And, for what it’s worth, some of my people are keeping an eye on the other end.”

He had told Yngva something about his work when he was in the south, which she had taken with her usual aplomb.  

Some hours (and several of the light torches apiece) later, they exited the tunnel, coming out into a little-used hallway near the Ereborean royal quarters. Nori waved to the nondescript dwarf sitting in a cranny nearby, watching their exit and a nearby juncture at which several hallways met. Nori and Yngva took one of the hallways off this juncture, quickly and quietly using the back corridors to get to the quarters shared by Nori and Dwalin on Opal Crescent. As much as Nori objected to living in the nobles’ quarter, their preference for having their servants work as unobtrusive a fashion as possible gave him a lot of opportunities; the wealth of back alleys, hidden doors, spouts, chimneys, and other trappings all aided their passage. Nori’s caution helped them move without being seen, as did the fact that it was well into the supper hour – in this quarter of the city, people at inside.

Unlocking the door, and ushering Yngva inside, Nori called out, getting no response. Locking the door behind him, Nori said, “Dwalin must be out. Probably eating with Balin or at work. Want to raid the pantry?”

Yngva’s insistent nod was answer enough; they dropped their bags and headed to the kitchen, where they feasted. Dwalin had thankfully kept a few of Nori’s less spoilable favorites in the kitchen so he could enjoy them whenever he made it back. He happily downed half a jar of pickled beets made to his mother’s recipe, thanking Mahal that Dwalin had thought to get them from Dori or Ori with the fall’s harvesting.

After they ate, Nori and Yngva began unpacking. Dwalin did not make an appearance as they worked as the sun lowered and set, keeping working after Nori gradually lit the various lamps around the rooms. When Yngva began to droop from tiredness, he set her up in the spare bedroom and unpacked what he could while being quiet, making sure that the path from the door to the main bedroom was clear – whatever Dwalin was doing, it was likely important to someone, to keep him away from home so late. Nori knew he was under the Mountain – all the talk in Dale was of the extremely recent arrest by the Captain of the Guard of a very high-profile thief … with her hand in the royal coffers. Nori had smiled to himself when he _heard_ that piece of news.

            Once he had unpacked as much of the quiet things as he could, Nori blew out all the lamps but one and headed to bed, putting his hair and beard into sleep braids and putting on nightclothes that were clean and smelled of the soap used by the laundry workers instead of dirt, sweat, and river water. The bed (gloriously comfortable) smelled like Dwalin. Nori smiled, and slept.

            When Dwalin eventually made it home soon before the midnight bell, their reunion was sweet, and Nori fell asleep curled up in his husband’s arms, with Dwalin’s nose buried in his hair.       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the times when kiddy!Yngva and victim!Yngva work together in a really weird way. Really weird.  
> Also, I’m going to assume that storage units are a thing in Dale. A lot of merchants and travelers = a need for people to leave their stuff for various lengths of time. Someone had to think of it.  
> So I derped and this chapter is longer. This might be a trend going forward…. Thoughts?  
> Also, authorial headdesking about my inability to write a good sex scene. Sigh.


	10. Blueberry Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin meets Yngva. There are pancakes. Balin and Ori show up.

Find me on Tumblr [here](http://kailthia.tumblr.com/).

The noise of the door opening woke Nori. By the light coming in from the small window by the ceiling, it was nearly false dawn. Looking at the source of the noise, Nori could see that it was Yngva, poking her head around the door with panic in her eyes. A nightmare, then.

Seeing her indecision as she stood by the door awkwardly, Nori motioned for her to join him on the bed, cuddling her close and making soothing noises as she gradually calmed. He made sure to keep his blankets tucked in closely around himself, since he hadn’t thought to dress again after he had lost his nightclothes to Dwalin’s attentions. Something to keep in mind for the future, if all went well.

Yngva’s whimpers slowed, and Nori looked up to see Dwalin looking over at him, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The tattooed dwarf did a double-take when he saw the child in Nori’s arms. Yngva followed Nori’s line of sight and let out a small ‘sqeep’ of alarm when she saw the large, admittedly threatening-looking dwarf looking at her. Nori sighed. Small children either loved Dwalin on sight or were terrified of him at first look. Yngva actually seemed to be more in the first camp on second look, peeking out at Dwalin curiously from between Nori’s arms after her initial shock dissipated.

As Yngva cuddled into Nori’s chest, he sighed. This was not perhaps the most fortuitous of meetings.

“So who’s the kid?” grunted Dwalin sleepily.

“Picked her up while I was down South. She’s still got some nightmares.” Dwalin usually didn’t like being woken up – typically reacting like a bear with a sore tooth if he didn’t sleep enough without some urgent cause to counteract his sleep deprivation – so Nori kept his explanation short.

Dwalin blinked, obviously processing this new information.

“Did y’take her from anyone who would miss her for any good reason?”

“No.”

Dwalin smiled sleepily. “Good.” He snuggled back into the blankets, winding a big handful of Nori’s hair around one of his hands and holding it against his face. “Y’can explain in the morning. I’m tired.” He was asleep again in seconds, using the warrior’s sense that allowed him to sleep whenever, wherever a semi-reasonable opportunity presented itself.

Nori let out the breath he’d been holding, and looked down at Yngva, still huddled close against him. “Want to stay here until morning?” Yngva nodded. “Okay. Go shut the door, then you can have this corner here, and this blanket,” said Nori, gesturing to the bit of the bed beside him while removing the top blanket from the mess of them covering himself and Dwalin. Yngva did as she was bid, curling into the hollow of Nori’s back as they slept.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Nori woke to an empty bed and the sounds of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. He slipped on yesterday’s sleeping clothes, got his hair and beard into semi-respectable at-home braids, and meandered down the hall to see what was in the offing. As he approached the kitchen, he discovered that Dwalin was instructing Yngva in the fine art of making fruit-filled pancakes – in this case, blueberries. He hid beside the door to the kitchen to listen.

“…. now, once the batter is starting to bubble, press a layer of blueberries into the pancake … yes, like that. Now, put a bit more batter on the top and wait a bit ….. Flip it over. Well done. Now check the next one while we wait for that one to cook.”

Nori smiled. It was good that Dwalin and Yngva were already getting along. He straightened from his crouch beside the door and entered the kitchen, giving Dwalin and Yngva matching kisses on the nose when they turned to look at him.

“Good morning,” he drawled, snagging a pancake off the pile on the table, munching contentedly as he cuddled into Dwalin’s offside. “You two going to let those pancakes burn or what?” Nori idly palmed Dwalin’s backside when Yngva obediently turned back to the stovetop, licking berry juice off his fingers with perhaps a bit more gusto than was _strictly_ necessary. Dwalin gave him a half-hearted glare, happy with the contact but displeased to have Nori so lewd in front of a child. Nori grinned.

It was good to be home.

oOoOoOoOoOo

            Nori had had to go report to Dáin about his findings in the Iron Hills and elsewhere, and then to go and reestablish contact with his people in and around the Mountain, so it was decided that Yngva would spend the day with Dwalin. His work was not nearly as dangerous as it had been in the past, being found mostly behind a desk or in high halls, so Nori had few qualms about the potential danger of the situation. Nori had, however, worried about leaving her along with the new-too-her dwarf, but Yngva hadn’t seemed too bothered by it.

 _You trust him_ , she had said. Nori had nodded, mouth tight. _Well, that’s enough to be getting on with._ Yngva had hugged him tight, then gone and stood by Dwalin as he prepared to go and work with the guards, readjusting the strap on the bag which carried her lunch and some knotwork to keep her occupied when Dwalin was busy.

            Nori returned home well after darkness had fallen outside the mountain city. Entering the apartment, he heard Balin’s voice, and Ori’s, joining Dwalin’s low rumble and an occasional higher-pitched comment from Yngva coming from the living area. Ori seemed to be leading the conversation for the moment, telling – damn his hide, he was telling Yngva about the incident with the fish oil. Deciding to hopefully put an end to the storytelling, Nori breezed into the living room, causing a general round of greetings.

“Better cut it out with the stories, Ori, or people will start to think that you’re the bad influence in the family,” Nori joked as he knocked his head against Ori’s, eliciting smiles.

“As if,” was Ori’s response as he rolled his eyes. “Where’d you pick this one up, anyway? She looks like she was in worse shape than I was when you found me, and that’s saying something.”

Nori shrugged, and looked over at Yngva, now sitting close to Dwalin on one of the couches. They had taken to each other surprisingly well – Yngva didn’t like being too close to strangers, but Dwalin was well within her (admittedly large) comfort zone, a good sign. He turned back to Ori. “Stole her, just like I did you.”

Ori chuckled weakly. “If you stole me, it was only from an early meeting with the Maker.”

Nori tweaked his little brother’s nose and hugged him tightly. “It was worth it. _You_ are worth it.”

“So are you going to fob her off on Dori, too?” asked Ori once Nori had released him from the hug and settled in his favorite chair, head tilted in the way that reminded Nori _so much_ of their mother that it still hurt to see, the tilt that was one of the only things Ori had had time to pick up from her before her death.

Nori smiled, a sharp thing with no small amount of grief. “Not this time.” Looking over at Dwalin, he went on, “I’m thinking that, this time, I want to keep what I took.”

Ori giggled. “You’re going to give Dori an aneurism, you do know that?”  

Nori smiled. “Icing on the cake, little brother. The look on Dori’s face is going to be _priceless_.”

Balin cleared his throat. “If you want to drop by my office tomorrow morning, I can fix up the paperwork for you?”

Nori and Dwalin exchanged a Look. Dwalin shrugged, then turned back to Balin. “We’ll be there.”

oOoOoOoOo

Later that night, Dwalin stared at a small tattoo of a key high on Nori’s thigh as the smaller dwarf reclined in their bed. “How did I not notice this last night?” he asked, still looking intensely at the small inked drawing.

Nori smirked, snickering. “You were distracted?”

Dwalin’s fed-up done-with-your-shit look hadn’t lost any of its potency in the year Nori’d been gone.

“Seriously. We match.”

“I know.”

“Did either of us mention anything about ….”

“No.” Deciding that the conversation was going nowhere fast, Nori kissed Dwalin to shut him up, running his finger over the small tattoo of a lock on his husband’s right upper thigh before his hand was abruptly moved.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two types of kids in terms of Dwalin reactions are basically Agnes from “Despicable Me” or her older sister Margo.   
> The bit with the pancakes is strongly reminiscent of how I learned to make stuffed pancakes. Also, shameless Nori is shameless.


	11. Formal Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dori is angry. Nori is pleased.

“You did _WHAT_?” squawked Dori, outraged, his face turning nearly as purple as his tunic.

“Adopted a kid. Her name is Yngva,” replied Nori, managing to look and sound much calmer than he felt as he stood in front of the aforementioned child with Dwalin. He’d hoped that Dori would take this well, but practicality and experience had told him that this would be the likelier outcome of his recent child-acquiring habits. 

Dori gave Nori the glare that could put fear into even the hardiest of his customers at his teashop. Nori assumed that the fact that they _were_ at Dori’s teashop lent power to the glare; it was a little before opening time, but Dori had given his employees the rest of the day off and locked up the shop instead of turning the sign to ‘open’ for the lunch crowd when he saw Nori coming in, child, husband, and Ori and Balin in tow.

Dori’s glare morphed into a hard look into Nori’s eyes, and, as soon as it had appeared, his anger turning to resignation.

“I suppose it’s done now,” he groused. He put his hands on his hips. “Well, brother, step aside. I’d like to have a look at my niece.” Nori willingly moved, but carefully kept within easy reach in case Yngva felt the need for contact. His concern proved justified, for as Dori gave Yngva a once-over, she reached out and grabbed one of Nori’s hands.

            Examination complete, Dori reached out for Yngva’s free hand. Once he had it, he wrapped his own much larger hands around Yngva’s smaller one and spoke the formal words of welcome for a new family member. Once he was done, he smiled down at Yngva and asked, “Do I get a hug?”

Yngva looked up at him considering, head tilted, then released Nori’s hand and stepped forward into Dori’s embrace, the one that Nori’s elder brother had learned when Ori had first come to them, that gave the feeling of all the warmth in the world while still not being overwhelmingly touchy-clingy. It was a skill that Nori envied; he could do it, but not as well as Dori – any kid that got this hug ended up like Yngva was now, practically purring against Dori’s side in an almost kittenish puddle of snuggle.  

After the fuss had settled – Nori reclaiming his child and Dori grousing at Nori for not coming to see him _immediately_ – they all settled in the biggest booth in Dori’s shop while Dori brought out the food that was supposed to be for the lunch crowd but was now being commandeered for a congratulatory dinner. Dori was in his element, fussing over everyone, but with Ori and Yngva getting the most of his attentions, Ori because his work in the archives kept him so distracted he forgot to eat, and Yngva because, no matter how much Nori had fed her during their year together, she still had significant ground to gain in terms of appropriate size for someone her age, and she would likely never fully make up the growth she had lost in her years of captivity.

Nori brought out his presents for Dori – Southern spices and a pair of gorgeous mittens that he had picked up in the Iron Hills that wouldn’t be of much use now in the depths of summer but would help keep the cold out of Dori’s bones in the depths of winter. Dori was appreciative, and promised to make Nori his favorite spiced pumpkin soup as soon as the weather started turning. Ori had gotten his present the night before, an empty book made of the good-quality paper that was a low priority with all the reconstruction to be done. Ori could fill it with whatever he wished – knowing Ori, that might well be the fair copy of their journey to reclaim the Mountain; the book was certainly pretty enough for it, all embossed leather cover and linen-heavy paper.     

Nori leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea carefully as he looked around him at his family, heart full.

He wondered how long it would take Dori to realize that he had dissembled the doorbell mechanism of his shop, removing a small but crucial piece before putting it back together again, debating what dire punishments he would be threatened with today. He smiled, and Dwalin wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Nori smiled to himself as Yngva and Dwalin argued over the correct proportion of candied peaches to oatmeal for their breakfast. It had been two months since he had returned to Erebor, and Yngva was settling in well. Her days were full – when she was not at home or at school, she was helping Ori and Dori and Balin regularly with their work, Nori and Dwalin sometimes, and the occasional day with other members of the Company.   

Lady Dís had taken to Yngva quickly, and, along with Gloín’s wife and daughter, had helped Yngva assemble an appropriate wardrobe for the daughter of a noble family. They were currently teaching her the skills that she would need to know as said daughter of noble family that Dwalin and Nori weren’t up to teaching her, like courtly graces and fighting in skirts.

            As Nori swiped a spoonful of oatmeal from the pot (getting his hand smacked for his trouble), he felt an overwhelming sense of _rightness_. He was where he was supposed to be.

That trip to Harad had really been quite profitable. Maybe he would go back someday….   

_Finis_

Find me on Tumblr [here](http://kailthia.tumblr.com/). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes:  
> What you need to know about Dori:  
> Firstly, he is /so done/ with Nori’s shit. Seriously.  
> Secondly, his hugs are lifechanging. You haven’t lived until you’ve had a Dori hug.   
> Ori’s present is a book that is paper, but is of the type that’s heavy with cloth and pulp – very time-consuming to make. Since paper was being made in Europe in the 1200s, I think it’d exist in Middle-Earth, but in the late Third Age it would be a comparatively luxury product, so a book with high-quality paper is an expensive gift. About equal to spices, which were fairly uncommon and very pricey in Northern climates. 
> 
> End of Series Notes:  
> Well, this is it, folks! Tadaaa!
> 
> I'm considering doing another work in this universe - either a prequel about how Ori came to the Ris (which I've hinted at but not specified), a thing about how Nwalin came about in this universe, or a sequel telling what happens next (which might be linear story or oneshots, idk), or some combination thereof. I'm leaning towards 1 or 3, but if you have a preference, tell me and I'll take it under consideration.


	12. Baby vomit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings. Babies. Vomit.

            Nori had to admit that when Dori committed to something, he _committed_. Once he had been brought around to the idea of Ori’s marriage, Dori had had the whole thing organized and managed. There were charts.

Nori was glad that his role seemed to be mostly in the acquiring-things-surreptitiously and looking-vaguely-threatening lines. He had no idea what went into what Dori called “a proper Dwarrow wedding,” and didn’t really want too – he and Dwalin had gone a more … quiet route to marriage, for which Dori had never forgiven him.

Soon enough, Ori and Nísi were wed, and Nori could get back to the business of running Erebor’s spy network. He had trained up a few assistants, some of which also did double duty with him at Dori’s teashop. It was a useful cover for all of them, providing alibis, cheap food, and a meeting place. Also, Gylvi had learned to make a damned fine pie crust.

Nori was content to settle in with the new changes to his lifestyle – another home to be protected, another group to add to the dinner party rotation. Yngva was, at nearly sixty, old enough to manage by herself a lot of the time, and busy with her apprenticeship with Dori besides. And Dwalin had been careful to be free for at least some of the same times of day as Nori lately. Life was good, and Nori planned on appreciating it for as long as he could. In his experience, things tended to go downhill as soon as they had reached optimal happiness levels. If they hadn’t started getting worse yet, it was only because there was a more soul-crushingly horrific moment for things to fall apart at.

oOoOoOoOo

            Nori had been surprised when Ori had announced, four years after his marriage, that Nísi was expecting. He hadn’t thought that either of them were particularly interested in what Dori (the prudish fusspot) called “the pleasures of the flesh.” When Nori had brought it up, Ori had shrugged.

“We both wanted children. It’s not like we haven’t done things we weren’t overly fond of for desired results before.”

Nori had bowed to his younger brother’s logic and thrown himself into the task of assisting him and his wife in their preparations to become parents. He had broken into their home with his assistants while they were out at work to repaint the room designated as the nursery. Dwalin had later been sent over to help with the child-proofing, a skill that he had developed after years of chasing after Fíli, Kíli, and Gimli and his sister in their babyhoods.

            When the child was born, Nori was pleased to see that his niece had inherited the ’Ri hair in a shade close to his, a deep auburn that went well with her skin color, a light brown that looked like the milk-heavy coffee that Dwalin favored. Nísi and Ori had named her Anrí.

            Dori doted on the baby to an alarming degree, often refusing to give her back to her parents for extended periods of time, a behaviour which Ori and Nísi accepted with varying degrees of grace – usually dependent on how fussy the baby was and how tired they were. Nori and Dwalin did their share of baby-sitting duties, though Dwalin (through dint of more experience) handled most of the burping and diaper-changing. Nori had a policy that insisted that babies were all very well as long as they weren’t oozing fluids.

            Nori was quickly reacquainted with all of the joys (and troubles) of having a baby in the family. Babies smelled lovely, though their leavings did not. They were cute. The noises they made were adorable, though sometimes these noises presaged getting burped on.

Baby vomit was surprisingly difficult to get out of one’s hair and beard. No wonder Dori had started wearing his beard the way he did after Ori was born.

            Dwalin – using his miraculous powers of being a favorite of children everywhere – had quickly become a favorite with the baby, and often would refuse to sleep without physical contact with him whenever she saw him. Nori didn’t like it, but acquiesced in the name of stopping the crying. He loved that kid, but could she yell! Ori had been _much quieter_.

Nori enjoyed his unclehood. Life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the interests of disclosure:   
> Yes, Ori and his wife are both ace. Yes, they did the deed. But as established in this chapter, they both want kids. One of these things must be done for the other to occur. Since I headcanon neither of them as sex-repulsed, they worked it out. I'm going under the assumption that - as Ori says - people do a lot of things they don't particularly like/aren't interested in to get a result they /do/ want.


End file.
